


in the silence

by beatrixfranklin



Category: Call the Midwife
Genre: Addiction, Angst, Canon Compliant, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-26
Updated: 2020-08-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:29:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26125783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beatrixfranklin/pseuds/beatrixfranklin
Summary: sister mary cynthia hears a voice in the middle of the night.4x8
Relationships: Trixie Franklin/Cynthia Miller | Mary Cynthia
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	in the silence

She was only heading to the bathroom, a midnight venture through the silent halls of Nonnatus. Sister Mary Cynthia, quiet even when she doesn't have to be, is nimble and quick, padding through the corridors on humble slippers. 

That's when she hears it- soft whispers floating through from downstairs. They're quiet but Mary Cynthia picks up on it immediately. She knows exactly who they belong to. All the sleep that's clouding her suddenly clears, the fog gone. Her footsteps quicken.

"Is it alright to call if I don't want to die?" 

As soon as she passes the rooms, Mary Cynthia is taking the steps almost two at a time. The soft tones of her friends voice are panicked. They're breaking as she speaks and the blonde is completely oblivious as Mary Cynthia passes the corner.

"All I really want is to stop drinking." 

She breaks. One shaking hand is holding the reciever to her ear, the other held over her mouth as she sobs, muffling her cries to everyone.

Everyone except her best friend. The small brunette walks up from behind her, taking the phone gently. Trixie doesn't fight. She doesn't have any fight left in her.

Beside her, a cigarette butt floats in a half filled mug, long gone cold through neglect. The strong smell of liquor tells Mary Cynthia it's more than a humble cup of milky tea.

"She's in a place of safety." 

Trixie doesn't feel it, clearly. Her arms wrap around her tiny, shaking frame, holding on as though the world is spinning tenfold.

Kneeling, Mary Cynthia takes her hands. Trixie averts her gaze for only a moment before letting herself fold, looking into her best friends eyes. 

Not even six months ago, Trixie would have probably confided in her. There's a barrier now, one that Trixie can't argue with or even try to move. 

They're on seperate sides of life - Mary Cynthia, now a sister, is enlightened, bold and brave. Trixie is a drunk at risk of losing everything she's worked for since she arrived in Poplar as a newly qualified, bright eyed midwife. 

"If you say you'll start praying, I promise that will not stop me crying." 

Trixie sobs, gripping onto Mary Cynthia's hands, as if she's trying to steady herself, trying not to fall, although she's nestled firmly into the on-duty desk chair.

"The world is full of healing, Trixie." 

The nun's tone is gentle, and soothing.

For a moment, Trixie lets herself believe the woman knelt before her. Warm arms wrap around her trembling frame, her tears slowing gradually. 

"And people who will help you to find it."


End file.
